Once there was a wild man,
A comin' down the road.
I threw up my shotgun
And gave him a double load.
...
Phone talks on cold days,
Long walks on warm days,
Lonely November mornings,
and December nights.
...
Winter
Brisk wind, clear skies
Brown leaves and leafless trees
Bright sun that warms toes, hands and shoulders
...
Letters written neatly
just talk
and tell us what
we want
...
I felt as though
my books,
Would remain my
only faiths.
...
Why do I write poems,
with lines that often rhyme?
Someday I will surely see
It is just a waste of time.
...
My audience has
fallen to the blues,
And now I almost lose
...
I walked the dusty road,
My soul alone-my mind in peace.
Then I could dream or ponder
Thoughts of you and I together.
...